


Exit Signs

by Roxie Ann (pluvial_poetry)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Competency, M/M, Porn, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluvial_poetry/pseuds/Roxie%20Ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur always had an exit strategy, but this time Eames didn't need it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exit Signs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/gifts).



Washington D.C. was a good place to be a spy. That was why Arthur wasn't surprised when Eames managed to pick up a tail at Dulles International. Though Arthur had to say, the tail himself was almost insultingly conspicuous. The man stuck out like a sore thumb, blatantly hovering behind Eames, always at the corner of Eames' line of sight as Eames made his way through the terminal.

Eames' number was preprogrammed into Arthur's cell, as always. From where Arthur was sitting, in one of the tiny, plastic chairs in front of one of the gates, he could see Eames grinning as he looked down at the caller id display on his phone before he answered Arthur's call with a cheerful, "I believe I've made a new friend." 

Eames abruptly stopped at a newspaper kiosk, picking up a copy of the Post and clearly startling his tail, who whipped around and awkwardly lingered behind a candy bar display, blocking traffic to the nearby gates. Even at a distance Eames looked good; tanner than the last time Arthur had seen him, and he'd put some weight back on in muscle.

"Yeah, I can see that," Arthur said. Arthur watched as Eames stepped aside for a woman with a small boy making her way to the check-out line, the child smiling at him shyly over the mother's shoulder. Eames gave the boy a little wave.

"Probably for the best that I don't lead him directly to our base of criminal operation, as it were," Eames pointed out, voice deep and even over the line. "I could--"

"No, don't do anything," Arthur interrupted, already considering their options. Surprisingly his first instinct wasn't to call off the job. It was telling that his team was apparently being somewhat ineptly followed instead of arrested fresh from the plane. Maybe it was meant as a warning, rather than an imminent threat. That should be simple enough to circumvent.

"I'll take care of it, Eames. Get him to the parking garage." Arthur hung up without waiting for Eames to respond. It wasn't as though Eames was going to argue with that. If there was one thing that Arthur knew about him, it was that Eames could always appreciate the necessity of an alternate exit strategy. Across the terminal, Eames folded his paper under his arm, and sauntered off, taking the long way down to the parking garage.

Arthur gave it a sixty second count before he briskly strode off in the opposite direction.

Half an hour later, Arthur was sitting in his rental car, a sporty little blue two-door, letting the engine idle, the air-conditioner on high, when the passenger side door opened.

"Is the plan to run to the man over? You'll want a car with more clearance for that, he'll only get caught in the undercarriage," Eames said as he slid into his seat, stuffing his duffel bag down between his feet, raising a questioning eyebrow at Arthur.

Arthur snorted disdainfully. "We're not running anyone over, Eames. I removed the distributor cap on his car."

He waited and watched as the tail darted across the garage, still not taking any precautions to be anything other than obvious as shit as he threw himself into his own car. "Black sedan. It's always a black sedan." Arthur said with disgust, finally pulling away from the curb.

"I hate to state the obvious but there are at least twenty black sedans in the immediate vicinity." Eames said, looking into the rear view mirror at the man still trying and failing to start his car as the parking garage opened up to Dulles' traffic in front of them.

"Twenty-three, actually."

"Ah. Which leads me to ask, how did you know which one was his?"

Arthur shrugged. "I didn't."

Arthur gestured to the back seat. Eames didn't bother to count them, but Arthur knew if he had, he would have found exactly twenty-three distributor caps laying there.

Eames turned slightly in his seat, so he could see Arthur's face. Arthur didn't take his eyes off of the road, but he thought he could see Eames smiling in his periphery. "You terrify me," Eames said.

He sounded delighted by it.

Arthur didn't bother to respond, he hit I-495 with the intent of making the trip back into D.C. in thirty-five minutes and not one minute longer. They were on a short time frame, any further delays would catastrophic at this point. It was mid-day on a Tuesday but for once it seemed like the traffic in the city wasn't against him; no blockades and no gridlocks. Eames managed to amuse himself for that amount of time, fiddling with the radio and periodically checking his phone.

The silence was still companionable rather than oppressive by the time Arthur pulled up to the hotel and he lead Eames through the lobby and into an elevator.

"You and I are in 421, Gandry and Bhatnagar are in 423." Arthur informed him then, shuffling Eames' room keycard out of one of his jacket pockets.

Eames stared at the card in Arthur's hand for a moment before reaching out to take it from him, his fingers tangling with Arthur's briefly around the plastic key before he pulled away.

“Efficient as always,” Eames chuckled, and it was impossible to tell whether he actually meant that as a compliment or not. “Thank you, Arthur,” Eames adds, after a loaded pause.

"If you'd rather have your own room -” Arthur began, a little confused. “I just thought it would be easier this way, but we could call down to the desk-”

“No, no, this is fine,” Eames assured him, watching his own reflection in the mirrored doors of the elevator. “I'd much rather share, if it's all the same to you," he finished over the sound of the door opening up to their floor. He ushered Arthur out in front of him, shouldering his duffel bag.

“I have the whiteboard set up in the lounge," Arthur said, as he unlocked the door to their suite. "You could take a look at it, get started there." He looked over his shoulder at Eames, and found him standing closer than he expected, leaning in slightly before he brushed past Arthur into the room. “Or you have time to take a nap if you want, we're not meeting Gandry and Bhatnagar until 7,” he said, thinking about Eames' long flight from Mombasa as he followed him in.

“You don't have to do that, you realize,” Eames returned, Arthur fiddling the latch shut behind them. He hesitated, setting his duffel down on the settee. “All of it, all of this -- Managing me.”

“I'm not managing anything,” Arthur scoffed, thinking that it was a sign of his growth as a person that he could overlook the rude little noise Eames made instead of calling him out on it. “This is my job, Eames, making sure that things are taken care of,” Arthur explained slowly, shrugging out of his jacket. “Which includes you, I guess, to a degree.”

“You know I could have lost that tail myself today,” Eames pointed out, watching as Arthur rolled up the sleeves on his shirt. "l didn't need you to step in.”

“What is this?" Arthur asked. Eames had seemed fine with it before, had seemed impressed even, back at the airport. “Do I need to tell you I know you can take care of yourself?”

“That'd be a start,” Eames said, and actually seemed serious about it, the corners of his mouth downturned, his eyes dark and concentrated on Arthur.

Arthur sighed, trying not to roll his eyes too obviously. “I know you can take care of yourself,” he said. He looked over at Eames again, smiled a little, because this whole thing was patently ridiculous, like Arthur hadn't seen him do the work of three people on every job they'd worked together, like he didn't know that Eames could handle himself, in a fight or in an intellectual challenge. “Eames, come on,” Arthur said, quietly, watching Eames' face, waiting for an answer to a question he didn't want to have to ask.

“Right, of course,” Eames said finally, attempting a casual tone and a smile. "A nap sounds like a bloody good idea about now. Which way to the bedroom?" he asked, and he didn't meet Arthur's eyes when Arthur pointed him in the right direction. Arthur lingered in the lounge for a moment, back tense, uncomfortable and strangely embarrassed. He could hear Eames moving around in the next room, his footsteps light on the carpeted floors.

Arthur eventually followed him into the bedroom, spurred on by his pathological need to put out fires. Eames had taken the unclaimed bed on the right, the one next to the window. He was stripped down to his underwear, sitting on the edge of his mattress. He tipped his head questioningly as Arthur sat down across from him on his own bed.

“I wanted you on this job because you're the best,” Arthur said, making the overture, feeling the weight of Eames' gaze on him, an exerting pressure. "I'm glad you're here." And then quickly before Eames could respond, because he hadn't meant to sound like that, just openly affectionate, or to be quite that sincere, "But if you're worried about the job being compromised-- If you want out..."

Eames took a minute before he replied. "If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here," he said quietly, frowning, shaking his head. "You don't always have to give me an out."

Arthur paused, because yeah, he had been trying to let Eames off the hook. Eames was a thief, a liar, and a cheat who would cut and run every time. That was just how it was, he had always made that very clear when he breezed into Arthur's life and left again when it suited him, and Arthur was fine with that. If Eames needed an exit, Arthur was the one to show him the way. It didn't matter that Eames would push at him, flirt, call him "darling" and "pet", stare at Arthur's ass from across the room. Just because Arthur might have been open to more at one point, didn't mean that Eames wanted -- whatever, Arthur knew that, accepted that. He kept all of that separate from their working relationship because he didn't want Eames to feel obligated to stay because of it. Eames had to know he could leave, that Arthur would let him leave, if he wanted to.

But if he didn't... Well.

"It's good to see you too, Arthur," Eames confessed, laughing softly to himself. "This doesn't have to be hard.”

"When have I ever been easy?” Arthur asked, letting out a long held breath.

"Fair point," Eames acknowledged. "Although if you ever wanted to start, now would be as good a time as any." He smiled over at Arthur, warm and hopeful. And Arthur thought, maybe Eames meant this, maybe this time was different. And that did make it easier, to toe off his shoes, to cross the small space between them to stand between the open spread of Eames' knees.

"I want you," Arthur said, honestly. "I've wanted you like this."

Eames didn't avoid his gaze. Didn't make a joke or pull away. "You can have anything you want," Eames admitted, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

“Yeah?” Arthur asked, a little dumbly, tracking the movement of Eames' tongue. It was kind of embarrassing, how something that small could turn him on so much. “You don't mind me managing you?” Arthur added, considering him, bracing his hands on Eames' shoulders.

Because Eames could take care of himself, Arthur remembered. But maybe he wouldn't mind if Arthur took care of him too, just a little.

Eames' hands came up to settle on Arthur's waist, and he grinned, finally, fully. “Under the circumstance,” he allowed, a tease.

That was what Arthur had been waiting for. Eames within his arms length, a chance to grab onto him and not have to let go. Eames permitting him to, instead of pushing him away.

"Well, then," Arthur said, laughing. Helpfully, Eames was already down to his boxers, so that just left him. He backed off a little, unbuckling his belt, letting Eames tackle the buttons on his shirt.

"Easy there," Eames said, prompted by the sound of cloth tearing as Arthur frantically struggled out of his shirt, but he stopped protesting once Arthur began shoving down his pants and his boxer briefs, going gratifyingly silent.

Arthur smirked, naked and confident, leaning in Eames' space, warmth radiating from his bare skin. "Moving too fast for you?" Arthur said, in a mocking tone because he couldn't imagine how they could have moved any slower. It was going on something like seven years of foreplay now. Enough was enough. "Because I think we're ready," Arthur added.

Eames swallowed thickly, managing to nod in agreement.

He was better like this than Arthur could have imagined, big with muscle, his body thick and heavy. Arthur straddled his thighs, settling down on his lap. "So I can do anything I want?" Arthur asked, mostly to himself.

Because that had always been the problem. Allowing himself to believe that he could have this. That this could actually happen for them if Arthur just let it.

"Okay," Arthur said nonsensically. They had already wasted so much time, the both of them looking for escape routes when there were none to be had. He wasn't going to waste anymore. Or actually, he thought, remembering suddenly - "Just a minute," Arthur said. He clambered off of Eames lap, grinning at Eames' sharp sound of protest. Once across the room, he rifled through his bag of toiletries, digging for condoms and lube, holding them up triumphantly when he found them.

Eames was shimmying out of his boxers, letting them drop to the floor as he spread out on the bed, sprawling back against the mattress, pillows shoved aside. Arthur paused briefly on his way back to the bed. It was a sight that needed a moment to be appreciated. Eames naked and waiting for him, looking very good like that, the tan skin and black ink of him against the white sheets.

"Spread your legs," Arthur told him hoarsely, waiting until Eames obeyed to set the condoms and the lube down beside him and to crawl up on the bed and kneel between his thighs. "Wider," he said, slapping at Eames' ankle, "I want to see."

Eames laughed, but to his credit, only hesitated for the barest moment before bending his knees a little and spreading for Arthur. Arthur looked down at him, Eames' cock full and heavy against his belly, the neatly trimmed hair that framed his balls.

Arthur reached down, slid his hands over the plump curve of Eames' ass, squeezed it a little, enjoying the way the muscles in Eames' thighs contracted and quivered at the touch.

Eames seemed a little skeptical when Arthur looked up at his face again, but he smiled for him as Arthur's fingers trailed down, over the cleft of his ass, pressing his thumbs against his dry hole, holding him slightly open. "You okay?" Arthur asked, because now it was his job to take care of Eames, and he was good at his job.

"Mmm," Eames rumbled in response, still smiling sweetly. "Although you're being quite fresh for someone who hasn't even kissed me yet."

Arthur dimpled, let Eames coax him forward onto his hands and knees, hovering over Eames' sprawled form. "You're right," he murmured, and his mouth is right over Eames', sharing a breath with him. "We should rectify that."

It was fitting as a first kiss, staying tender and soft, their lips brushing together, catching and then parting gently. After a minute, Arthur pulled back, laughing at the dazed expression on Eames' face, feeling a little flattered. "Where were we?" he asked, shaking his head clear, reaching for the lube.

Eames shifted willingly, pulling a knee up to his chest as Arthur slicked his right hand. Eames was breathing quickly, his cock twitching in counterpoint.

"You look so good like this," Arthur said, and he couldn't help the slight detour, he had to touch it, wrapping the fingers of his left hand loosely around Eames' cock, just petting him a little.

Eames gasped out, "At this point, Arthur, the flattery is completely superfluous," as Arthur's other hand stroked down, two fingers resting over Eames' hole, the muscle there jumping insistently.

"Because I already got you into bed?" Arthur asked, sliding one finger in, nice and easy, Eames holding his breath as he did. "Or because you already know?" 

"I just mean that-- you don't need to impress me," Eames said in a rush, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. He was so tight. Arthur should have expected that. It was fitting in a way, of course he'd have to take his time with Eames, he always made Arthur work for it.

"I want to. You always impress me," Arthur murmured to him, and then when Eames didn't respond, only tensed further around Arthur's finger, Arthur demanded, "Eames, talk to me." It was an obvious distraction method, but Eames would have seen through any tactic to get him to relax that Arthur could have come up with on the fly anyway.

Eames' cheeks were flushed, sweat beading at his temples. He made a face, and said, "I'm afraid you've finally figured out how to shut me up."

"Useful information," Arthur noted. 

Eames breathed out a shaky incredulous laugh. "I suppose it could be."

Arthur slid his finger out of Eames gently. Reached over for the lube and slicked up his other hand, smoothing both wet hands over Eames' cock. "Just -- tell me it feels good."

"Arthur," Eames growled. "Of course it does." And it obviously did feel good when Arthur played with his foreskin, tugging it lightly, sliding it back to expose the wet tip of Eames' cock. Eames grunted and whimpered, pleased, grateful noises that Arthur savored, dragging them out of him one by one. It obviously felt even better when Arthur got more lube, spilling it over Eames, making him wet from his balls down and back into his hole. Eames rocked into it, tension slowly seeping out of his body.

Arthur jerked him off like that for a long time, rough and generous, rolling Eames' balls in the palm of his hand, slipping a finger down and into him again. He took a long time with that too, until Eames pushed back into it, hungry for it. Then Arthur worked in a second finger, and began to open Eames up for him, Arthur's fingers moving in and out steadily, Eames' cock leaking precome in his left hand.

"I want to fuck you," Arthur said, desperation edging into his voice as he paused for more lube and switched to three fingers. Maybe unnecessary but Arthur would always rather do too much than too little. Eames made a little incoherent noise in response, turned his face into the pillow, shuddering now, a full bodied shake. He was gorgeous like this, three fingers in his ass, Arthur fucking him like that, and Eames taking it all smoothly.

Eames came then, his cock jerking hard in Arthur's hand, his body bowed up, muscles straining, Arthur working him through it. Eames went limp afterward, breathing shakily. Arthur wiggled his fingers free, eased Eames' leg down against the bed.

"Come here," Eames ordered, squirming weakly against the mattress, beckoning Arthur forward impatiently.

Their second kiss was dirtier, Eames' mouth soft and eager under his, his crooked teeth sharp against Arthur's lips.

"Alright," Arthur said, eventually pulling back, giving in a second later when Eames' tongue licks out across his plush bottom lip, Arthur diving back in to chase after it, Eames' lips parting easily to give him access.

"Mmm," Eames murmured. "Now come up here," he demanded, his hands on Arthur's hips, pulling him up on his knees and dragging him forward until he was bowed over Eames' chest, his knees tucked into Eames' armpits. Arthur let himself fall forward a little, braced himself with his hands against the headboard. Underneath him, Eames opened his mouth.

It was August in the city, even in their well air-conditioned hotel room, they were both sweating; exertion and the closeness of bodies. It was hot.

Eames' mouth was even hotter.

Eames tongued the head of Arthur's cock messily, his lips slowly finding their way down to the base of the shaft, tightening around him mercilessly as Arthur gasped and whined.

Arthur's hands were in fists, his fingernails dug into the meat of his palms, anything to keep him focused, to keep him from coming as Eames pulled back until just the tip of Arthur's cock rested against his bottom lip and he did something wickedly clever with his tongue against Arthur's slit.

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, it wasn't going to take much more of that to set him off. "Wait," he said, pushing a little at Eames' forehead, moaning a little as Eames backed off.

"Still impressed with me?" Eames asked, trademarked smirk in place, his lips shiny with spit.

"Just a bit," Arthur admitted wryly. "Give me a second."

"Anything you want," Eames said conciliatorily, rubbing his hands up the back of Arthur's thighs, a soothing, soft movement.

"Okay," Arthur said and he grabbed the base of his dick, held it tight for a moment, taking deep breaths, dragging himself back from the edge. "I want-- just open your mouth."

He cupped Eames' chin in his hand, tilting Eames' head back a touch as Eames' mouth fell open. Arthur grinned at that. For all that they usually poked and prodded at each other, they clicked like this. It worked. It worked especially well when Arthur's dick was back in Eames' mouth, going in deeper, the head of cock brushing against the roof of Eames' mouth, easing into his throat.

"Let me know if it's too much," Arthur said and rubbed a hand over Eames' cheek, the rough rasp of whiskers there. Eames had tensed up again; he was gagging a little, breathing harshly through his nose, his eyes beginning to water even as he gave the all clear sign with his hand. Arthur was still about to say fuck it and pull out altogether when Eames suddenly relaxed into it, letting Arthur push forward another inch, closing his eyes as Arthur began to gently thrust.

Arthur kept his eyes open. This was a sight that he wanted to remember. He would happily think about this the next time he jerked off. How welcoming and wet Eames' mouth was, how pink Eames' cheeks were and how red his lips looked around his cock.

Eames was noisier in this act than he had been while getting fucked. He made the most obscene wet sounds with his lips and his tongue, he moaned and hummed around Arthur's cock, and whenever Arthur tried to get him to let up, he would make these greedy little noises until Arthur gave it to him deeper again. Arthur'd had his fair share of blowjobs but he'd never had anyone love sucking his cock as much as Eames did, like Eames couldn't get enough of it, like Arthur was delicious.

He could come from this, easily, and Eames wanted to make him come, that much was obvious. But there was still something he wanted more.

Arthur pulled back without pausing to think about it too much, because if he thought about it, he would lose what little control he had left. It was hard enough ignoring Eames' little disappointed sigh as he released Arthur's cock and Arthur scooted back to kneel between Eames' legs again.

"Can I fuck you?" Arthur asked him, fully aware that he sounded and looked wrecked, panting for breath, his hair a tangled, sweaty mop that he swept back from his forehead. He bent forward and nipped at the flat of Eames' belly, toyed with one of his nipples, pinching it roughly as Eames took a sharp inhale.

Eames smirked at him, tucking a loose strand of Arthur's hair back behind his ear, and lifted his hips invitingly. "Of course you can. Arthur." His voice was gone, rough and gritty. It made Arthur's dick ache from wanting him.

Arthur tested him with a finger. Eames was still fairly loose from where Arthur had worked open earlier. "You feel amazing," Arthur said, quickly ripping open the packaging on a condom and rolling it down over his dick.

"You should hurry up and get your cock in me then," Eames said, his legs splayed open, a cradle that Arthur settled into, Eames' heels coming to rest on the back of his thighs.

"Making this easy for me?" Arthur tried to joke, hearing his own voice go to ruin, his cock skimming wetly across the skin behind Eames' balls, then pushing against his hole.

"As easy as it gets," Eames said, bearing down around Arthur, tight and wet, as Arthur bulled in all the way, his hips flush against Eames'.

"Thank fuck," Arthur swore, his hands clenched around the wrinkled sheets underneath them, hesitant to move. "Eames, I,--" he gasped out when Eames clenched experimentally around him. It had been a long time since Arthur was sixteen years old, he should be beyond a hair trigger by now. But he didn't want to test it.

Eames' cock was only half-hard, still sticky with come, flushed prettily against his tan thigh. Arthur rubbed a firm hand over it, pleased when it twitched, eager for his touch, as Eames bit out, "Please, Arthur, fucking hell. Please."

Arthur didn't want to make him beg. Well, he did, but not as much as he wanted to fuck Eames until he came.

His hips moved almost involuntarily, drawing back slowly and then pressing forward again. Eames wrapped a hand around his own cock, giving it a firm squeeze then jerking it from base to tip, his face contorting with a blend of pleasure and pain. As his dick got harder, Arthur's hips worked a little faster, riding Eames a little rougher because he knew Eames could take it.

"Ah, there, that's good," Eames choked out as Arthur shoved in again. And that was all Arthur needed to hear. He kept a tight grip on the sheets and put his back into it. Eames liked it, he loved it like that, going wild underneath him, a hand brutally fisting his cock, his back taut, his heels dug into Arthur's thighs, urging him on.

It was all Arthur could do to hold on, focusing on Eames' reactions, rather than on the fire building at the base of his spine, spreading to his guts. There was a knot of scar tissue on Eames' left thigh, a sheen of sweat forming in the crevasse of his leg, beads of it trickling down to where their bodies met, where Arthur's hips were slamming into Eames' ass-- fuck, that wasn't going to work much longer.

Arthur looked up. Eames was biting his bottom lip, trapping back the noises that threatened to escape. His expression when he met Arthur's gaze was starry-eyed and fond, and Arthur hoped he deserved that, hoped that he was appreciating it enough, because he wanted to. Eames had to know how much Arthur --

"Oh, fuck," Arthur said, his head dropping forward. He was done. He managed another half a dozen hard thrusts before he drove in deep and finally came.

Through his mindless haze, he heard Eames yelp, felt come splash between their stomachs as Eames finished himself off.

Eventually, when sensation had returned to his limbs for the most part, Arthur lifted his head, feeling better than he had felt in a long time. Good enough that he didn't even care that the sheets were damp and filthy and half off the bed. He lazily propped himself up on an elbow, squinting over at the room clock on the nightstand.

"You still have time to grab a shower or something to eat before we meet up with Gandry and Bhatnagar," he said, unthinkingly.

Eames shook his head, his eyelids drooping sleepily, arms and legs still wrapped tight around Arthur's body with no sign of him letting go any time soon, no exit in sight. "Let's just stay like this for a while longer, shall we?"

Arthur grinned at him, warm and happy and helpless with affection as he settled into Eames' embrace. "Yeah. Let's just stay."


End file.
